


All's Well That Ends Well

by Plus1STR



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Cartinelli - Freeform, F/F, Femslash, One Shot, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3636378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plus1STR/pseuds/Plus1STR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angie and Howard have an awful tendency to bet against each other on just about anything they can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All's Well That Ends Well

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to [stuunalee](http://www.stuunalee.tumblr.com) for going back and forth with me on this until I couldn't live without seeing it exist in the world and for being such a delightful peach about me sending them what has to be well over 30 different Cartinelli related head canons.

            Within the first few months of living in the mansion together, Peggy made the tentative decision of letting Angie catch glimpses of her work life and that glimpse came in the form of Howard Stark. Since the beginning of her time at the SSR, Peggy had never regretted anything more than she regretted introducing Angie Martinelli and Howard Stark. Peggy made it a point to let Howard know she’d slice him from stem to sternum should he ever attempt to woo Angie in any way; as much Howard enjoyed his escapades, he preferred his nether regions to remain intact.

            The pair developed a sibling-like relationship quickly— with that bond came a rivalry that often landed the two into copious amounts of trouble; Angie and Howard had an awful habit of making bets, typically over blueprints and schematics one had that the other wanted to tinker with.

            “Just let me see it,” Howard started, leaning over Angie’s shoulder to take a look at her latest mock-up for a pet project of she’d began.

            “Are you gonna let me see the specs for the new plane?” Angie leaned over the workbench a bit further, hiding her modifications from Howard.

            “It’s all experimental and you know I can’t do that.”

            “Then no,” she quipped.

            “I’ll show you the specs for the flying car.”

            Angie looked up from her work, offering a thoughtful look before shaking her head.

            “A flying car’s no YF-93, Stark.”

            “You looked?”

            Angie shrugged, continuing her sketching. “’Course I did.”

            “Camera pen?”

            “No.”

            “Photonic amplifier?”

            “No.”

            “I’ll introduce you to Lana Turner.”

            Angie nearly dropped her pencil; she would have taken him up on that offer months ago if she wasn’t aware of how the vast majority of Howard’s romps turned out in the end. The woman likely despised Howard.

            “Nope.”

            That was how it always started; an ample amount of misplaced curiosity and two stubborn personalities colliding with each other.

            “How about a little wager?” Angie sat up straight and turned around in her seat. The Martinelli’s all had a weak spot for taking a gamble.

            “I’m listening.”

            “Dinner’s on for tonight, right?” Howard tapped his chin with his index finger. “First one to make Agent Carter blow a fuse wins the other’s prints.”

            “I want the 93 prints.”

            “I… Fine.” Howard had always been confident in his abilities. Though his usual charm and comical tactics wouldn’t work on Peggy, he’d known her long enough to discover exactly what would push at her last nerve.

            “Then you’ve got yourself a deal.” Angie pulled off a grease stained glove and stuck out her hand.

            “Perfect.” Howard took the offered hand and shook on it.

            When Howard arrived later on at his former penthouse, Angie greeted him with a sly smile and pulled him into a hug.

            “Bring my plane schematics?” She whispered into his ear.

            “Don’t hold your breath, Martinelli.”

            They broke apart and wandered into the dining room where Anna, Jarvis, and Peggy waited patiently at the table. Peggy already looked agitated as it was; she was still dressed in her work attire and the tired look in her eyes suggested she hadn’t gotten an ounce of sleep within the past few days. With Dooley gone and Thompson now holding the reigns as chief at the SSR, Peggy was forced to work longer, more taxing hours just to keep Thompson up to date with everything that Peggy had worked on during and after the midnight oil debacle. Apart from juggling her own work load and the unrelenting stress Thompson forced on her, Dottie was still running free and the very thought it kept Peggy up at night.

            An hour later and the dinner seemed to be going over well enough despite all of Howard’s attempts to pester Peggy. None of his methods seemed to be working. Discussing work usually ruffled her feathers, but Peggy had spent so much time at the office that shop talk became second nature. Chatting about his latest fling earned him nothing more than a glare and a disappointed glance from Anna. If anything, Howard was boring Peggy death.

            Angie sent Howard a smug, toothy grin before leaning into Peggy side, whispering into her ear so lowly that no one else could have possibly caught the conversation.

            “If they’re not gone in the next twenty minutes, I’ll do that thing you like one hour for every glass of wine you’ve had.”

            Peggy went wide-eyed and a pink tinge crept across her pale cheeks as she sputtered her drink back into her glass. Howard shot a questionable look to Angie from across the table, as if to ask what had just happened.

            “Miss Carter, are you alright?” Jarvis asked, making a motion to stand to assist her; Peggy raised her hand to still him before he could.

            “Quite,” Peggy cleared her throat and stood swiftly. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” she answered apologetically before stepping out of the dining room.

            “What did you do?” Howard leaned into the table, staring Angie down for an answer.

            “Nothing at all.” Angie smiled behind her glass, sipping slowly on her drink.

            Peggy returned and smoothed out her skirt before taking her seat again.

            “Everything okay, Pegs?” Howard questioned, his attention shifting between Angie and Peggy.

            “Certainly.” Peggy downed what remained in her glass before refilling the glass. “Anna, you were saying about your garden?”

            Anna animatedly delved into conversation about the flower garden she recently started, looking to Jarvis to fill in any blanks she might have missed when explaining the various plants she hoped to grow. Peggy nodded at the appropriate intervals between each sip of her drink. Howard eyed her suspiciously; before Peggy left, she came across as dull and worn out, but now she had a spark of life about her that struck Howard as odd.

            Angie leaned in again, pressing her lips so close to Peggy’s ear that the warm breath sent a well masked shiver down Peggy’s spine.

            “I’ll do that thing with the ice cubes,” Angie whispered, catching Peggy’s posture stiffening.

            Peggy whipped her head to the side to face Angie; the dark, hungry gaze Angie found herself spotlighted under had been enough to make Anna and Jarvis blush.

            “You sure you’re okay, Peggy?”

            “I’m fine—” Peggy coughed into her napkin, trying to rid herself of the low, hoarse sound that was caught in the back of her throat. “I’m fine, Howard. Thank you.”

            Thirty minutes came and went and Peggy only grew antsier; her fingernails dug into the edge of the table hard enough that she could have pulled bits of the edging off. Howard attributed it to his babbling and tales of his latest inventions and side projects for General Philips— he’d seen her react this way out of frustration before— but Angie hid a knowing smirk, all too aware of the effect she had on Peggy; Peggy’s composure was slowly coming undone. Howard assumed Peggy was simply fighting the urge to slug him again.

            Jarvis set his fork down, adjusting the collar around his neck that suddenly felt too tight.

            “It’s getting quite late, isn’t it? Perhaps we should take our leave.”

            “Late? It’s barely eight, Jarvis,” Howard mocked, taking a sip of water. “So, Pegs, what’d ya say to testing out a pistol I’ve been working on?” He continued on; Howard didn’t intend on leaving until he won the bet. After all, he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he lost classified blueprints of an experimental government plane over a some bet he made on a whim.

            “Sounds lovely, Howard.” Peggy nursed her third glass of wine, shifting awkwardly in her seat as Angie settled a hand against Peggy’s leg. Peggy’s grip around the cup in her hand tightened, forcing a thin vein to crack into the glass.

            “I’ll just fetch a new glass.” She rose from her chair, wiggling away from Angie’s touch. Angie followed suit, muttering off a half-hearted apology and an excuse about grabbing the pie from the oven.

            Peggy stood at the kitchen sink, her hands welded onto the counter top so tightly that her knuckles were white from the pressure. Angie slinked behind her, tapping Peggy softly on the shoulder; she nearly stumbled back at how sharply Peggy turned around.

            “Angela, what do you think you’re doing?”

            Angie gave a sheepish grin; whenever Peggy called her by her full name, she knew she was treading on dark waters.

            “Just grabbing the pie, Eng—”

            Peggy pulled Angie in roughly as she crashed her lips against Angie’s in a frenzied hunger, swallowing the end of the actress’ sentence in a kiss. Peggy’s hands twisted into the fabric of Angie’s shirt, wrinkling the clothing between her fingers. Her teeth grazed Angie’s bottom lip before tugging it between her own and Angie’s hands found their way to Peggy’s cheeks to guide her along in the mania. Peggy flushed her body against Angie’s until Angie pushed against the force, backing Peggy into the counter again. Angie could have sworn she heard a throaty growl leave Peggy’s lips when Angie started to pull away from her.

            Angie broke the kiss, nearly forgetting her own mission when she caught the heavy lidded, dreamy look that cascaded over Peggy’s face.

            “Like I was saying, I’m just grabbin’ the pie.” Angie straightened herself out before grabbing the still warm pie out of the oven and returning to their guests.

            When Peggy returned with a new wine glass in hand, the pie had already been sliced and served out in dishes. Anna and Jarvis shared a knowing look between each other; the only one that didn’t seem to noticed Peggy’s missing signature lipstick was Howard.

            “So, Pegs,” he started as soon as Peggy reclaimed her seat; the smug, triumphant looks Angie threw at him egged him on. “I was thinking about installing some…”

            Whatever Howard was rambling on about now became white noise to Peggy’s ears as Angie crept a hand long her thigh again; Peggy inhaled sharply at the feathery contact.

            “Peg, you listening?”

            “I’m sorry. You were saying?” Peggy spoke through gritted teeth.

            Angie discreetly slid her seat closer to Peggy’s and let her hand wander farther and farther up Peggy’s leg. She leaned in once more, not nearly as close as she was before.

            “Howard and I have a little bet going on,” she whispered. “The sooner  I win, the better.” Angie grazed her fingernails against Peggy’s thigh and Peggy forced out a cough, trying to mask the whimper that involuntarily made its way out of her mouth.

            “Angela, Margaret,” Anna spoke softly. “Dinner was lovely, but we best be going.”

            Jarvis stood first and pulled out Anna’s chair.

            “It was a rather… interesting evening,” Jarvis tacked on, not quite meeting either of the hostess’ gaze. “Mr. Stark.”

            “I’ll stick around, Jarvis.”

            “Sir, surely you have some sort of business in the morning.”

            “It can wait. Besides—”

            Howard stopped abruptly when Peggy’s knees hit the table hard enough to shift the plates and glasses stacked on top of it; Angie pinched a particularly sensitive spot on Peggy’s thigh that drew out much more than just an audible response.

            “S-she wins, Howard,” Peggy stood up, smoothing out her skirt and pushing her chair into the table. “Angie wins whatever your silly bet was and you _need_ to leave.”

            Howard mimicked Peggy’s movements, glaring daggers into Angie. “You can’t just— it doesn’t count if she knows about the bet!”

            “You didn’t set any rules.” Angie folded her arms over her chest, flashing her ear to ear smile. “I expect those blueprints in the morning!”

            A red-faced Jarvis pulled Howard along, ushering him out of the door before he could try to push his luck and call for double or nothing.

            “Goodnight, ladies,” Anna called to Angie and Peggy before shutting the door.

            Peggy let out a shaky breath, leaning against the table for support.

            “Angela Martinelli,” Peggy looked up at Angie with that same devouring look from the kitchen. “You are in so much trouble.”

**Author's Note:**

> I spent an hour trying to figure out what to name this to the point where I named it after a play. I'm kinda lame, I know.


End file.
